Promises, Promises
by TangerineFields
Summary: OotP. After a twelve day absence, Remus offers a jaded and bottled Sirius the choice between coffee and sex. Inevitable consequences ensue. RemusxSirius


A/N: For M'rika, because it made her smile, and unlike Sirius' many uses, I'd like to think that, above all things, is what my writing is good for.

Disclaimer: All characters mentioned are the property of J. K. Rowling.

**Promises, Promises**

"You promised! You fucking promised!"

Sirius ducked over his bottle, as though able to escape Ron's shouts through sheer force of mind.

"Don't you use that sort of language with me, young man!"

"He's my best mate!"

"And I'm your mother! Bed! Now!"

Ron lashed out at the table leg, sending jitters shuddering up through Sirius' elbows. Truth be told, Sirius felt like firing an argument himself, stepping in on the Weasley kid's behalf just for the sake of sending the sparks flying and Molly storming. He needed a distraction from his boredom before it became terminal, but he could tell from the set of Molly's shoulders and the shrill ring of her voice that this was not the night for petty scrabbles. All of them were on their tippy toes tonight. All of them but fucking Sirius Black, up the metaphorical creek with not a batshit clue in hell about what was going out outside the four walls of his dear old ancestral home.

He bit into the ulcerated lining of his cheek as Molly, shooing her boy in front of her, exited the semi darkness of the cold kitchen. There was a meeting in progress in the dining room upstairs. Sirius had feinted tiredness, nausea, a migraine – anything to escape the sickening, gut churning feeling of utter uselessness those meetings brought on.

Remus, of course, would have known the symptoms, would have known the moment he set eyes on him that tonight Sirius was good for nothing but moping and bemoaning and needed, and there was no polite way of putting it, a good fucking. Molly and Shacklebolt (perhaps mercifully) had not known this, and instead pestered him with surprising ferocity and had left him feeling jaded and sour.

Above him, a door clicked open and the first murmur of life creaked on the stairs, ever cautious of bearing the brunt of one of his darling mommy's tirades.

Sirius dropped his head into his hand and closed his eyes. He knew when he wasn't in a fit state for human consumption. He didn't need the whiff of alcohol to warn him that he was probably approaching the less favourable stages of pretty damn drunk.

There was the clack of china in the sink, and the harsh whistle of the kettle. Sirius kept his eyes tightly closed against the world and his deadening cheek, mind spiralling between the temptation to reach for the bottle of firewhisky by his right elbow and the scalding look of contempt Snivellus had shot him upon his arrival that evening.

A mug clunked down on the stained table next to his elbow and warm breath suddenly flooded the cornices of his ear, achingly familiar arms threading around his waist.

"You have two choices today," Remus' voice came, huskily than was usual in the cool air. "You can sit here, drink the coffee I just made you, and talk to me, which I know is a horribly foreign concept but I'm sure you'll get the hang of it. Or, you can stop pretending, badly, I might add, to be asleep and follow me upstairs where I am assured there is a bath and," Remus kissed the space at which jaw bone and skull collided tenderly, "A bed. I'm not going to influence you in anyway, but I'm tired, Severus has been frankly infuriating and the last time someone shouted my name it was to tell me I'd left the floo lit and an Ashwinder had nearly burnt the house down."

Sirius groaned hopelessly as Remus' fingers become rather insistent about unbuttoning his shirt. "What would you do," he murmured, smiling despite the shit day, despite Remus' eternal twelve day absence and cracked an eye open to glance at his mug of coffee, "If I chose the first option?"

"Denounce you, probably," Remus said flatly. "And then leave you for Kingsley." With a growl of frustration he abandoned Sirius' unyielding shirt buttons and straightened up. "What in Merlin's name are you good for if not a bath and a good shag?"

Knowing he was helplessly hard already and that there was nothing else for it, Sirius snatched his coffee and downed it, wincing at the sudden rush of heat, and then grabbed Remus' hand, their calloused fingers entwining as the gloom of the kitchen gave way to the gloom of the hallway.

"I've been told," he said, as his ancestors' frankly murderous glares followed them up to the first floor landing, "That I make a bloody good doorstop, and have an aptitude for vanishing charms."

Remus turned, and allowed himself to be backed into a corner, his spine colliding with the old plaster with a satisfying thud.

"Stop talking, Sirius," he groaned, as their lips collided in a mess of longing and forced abstinence, "Twelve days is a bloody long time, you know, and if my recently disturbed dreams have been anything to go by, you've got a lot to live up to." He gasped, lips working silently against the chasm between them. "You have no idea what sharing a room with Kingsley is like when all I can think about is-"

Sirius caught his bottom lip lightly between his teeth. "Later," he groaned, "If Molly catches us against you'll have nothing but dreaming left, Moons."

Remus chuckled against his lips and caught his hand again, their staccato progress up the second flight of stairs interrupted by a rather loud shriek of horror from an overzealous great aunt.

"You know what I haven't said," Sirius murmured, kissing Remus' neck and sliding a hand between the other man's thighs.

"That you're-" Remus groaned, "A washed up, wreck of an excuse for a lover, you skipped a meeting in which I would have quite happily had you on the dining table, you reek of whiskey and you're sorry?"

Sirius chuckled darkly, and caught his lips again. "Something like that."

"No," Remus pulled away, panting and stared at him searchingly. "No, say it, Sirius, for god's sake." The ache in his groin had almost dulled every other thought to shades of grey, but for this moment at least his mind was presenting a more pressing issue. "Say it."

"Remus Lupin," Sirius kissed him softly in the dip below his collar bone, "Walking dictionary, bastard who abandoned me for twelve days without even a word," a nip of the soft skin below his jaw, "the man who actually felt the need to give me a choice between coffee and a good fucking," he kissed his nose almost admonishingly, "I love you."

Remus groaned against Sirius' lips as his tongue pushed between his teeth. "Merlin, promise me," his breath hitched and he let his eyes flicker shut, "Promise me it'll always end like this."

"Choosing between coffee and a shag on the landing?" Sirius smiled, "Yeah, I could probably live with that."


End file.
